Pay for It
by Desdemona Kakalose
Summary: Before Johnny C came along and screwed everyone over, Jimmy had just been weird. Really weird, if you asked his neighbors. -slashy-


**Pay for it**

(2000 words)

Two minor characters some into unexpected contact. Three or four years before Johnny C. screws everyone's lives over, Jimmy was just... weird.

Warning: Slash. Weirdness. Unstable character narrating.

* * *

I don't want you to hate me,

I want you to _wanna_ hate me,

I don't want you to date me,

I want you to _wanna_ date me

I'm gonna pay for it, all of this shit

I'm gonna pay for it like a goddamn sonuvabitch

_-Mindless Self Indulgence_

* * *

Jimmy always knew he had bad luck. After all, you couldn't expect much else when you threatened your teachers on a daily basis, so violently, in fact, that they were actually afraid to report you. He always figured it was pay off, you know, and in the end they'd all be even and he'd be dead. That suited him well enough.

The problem was when he forgot to watch his back. Luck particularly liked to stalk him around the neighborhood, waiting patiently for him to let down his guard and then _jump_ him, like some sort of sadistic fangirl ready to carve her name into a band member's arm with a rusted straight razor. Weird analogy, but whatever.

And he'd forgotten to watch out today, of course he had. He'd had this great dream about assaulting and battering that ditsy blond in his geometry class—not that he'd ever _do_ it, probably, but a boy can dream, can't he? So he'd been too distracted by actually being happy for once to watch his back, and of course Luck picked that moment to come flying at him from the side of the ring. Down goes Jimmy.

He eyed the Thing in front of him with utter disbelieving horror. His fingers went cold. Luck was going to get a commendation for this, no doubt about it.

The Thing looked at him with great, green, _hungry_ eyes, tracking his every movement with impossible intensity. Its fur bristled, haunches coiled like springs, ready to jump. God, it was _huge. _What had he done to deserve this, really? Had he killed someone in his sleep?

Jimmy took a step back as it occurred to him to run. But wasn't running supposed to attract predators? He took another look at its gleaming teeth and decided anything was better than standing here till it attacked. Maybe it'd be surprised enough to give him a head start, and then…

Oh shit. There was one behind him too. And this one was even uglier. Fuck, he was so totally going to die now. Just as he was debating whether or not to make a break for it into the woods and the devil take the hindmost, something impossible happened: Jimmy had a stroke of good luck.

"Fluffy," a young man exclaimed, swooping in and scooping up the hideous pile of fur, "Fluffy, what are you doing out here?"

The man, probably three years older than Jimmy and wearing glasses, looked up and noticed the rock-still, tense-as-a-crushed-spring boy who was glaring apprehensively at his cat.

"Meow," the cat said.

The older man spotted the second cat behind Jimmy and rushed to scoop it up too, tucking one under each arm where they lolled contentedly. Jimmy hissed and recoiled when one cat swung a bit too close to his arm for comfort.

"I'm sorry about that," the older boy said, and Jimmy noticed that he had a goatee, which might have looked Satan-esque on anyone else, but only managed to make him look like a beatnik. "My cats don't usually get out enough to harass people; I don't know how they escaped. Bad luck, I suppose."

"Uh, yeah," Jimmy muttered, relaxing slightly when the other man moved away. "Bad luck."

The stranger did a bit of quick cat-juggling so that both the felines dangled from one arm and then stuck out his free hand. "I'm Edgar. Edgar Vargas. Pleased to meet you."

"…Jimmy," he replied, hesitantly taking the offered hand. What a fairy.

Something sparked in Jimmy when their hands met, a bit like what happens when you smash two pieces of flint together. He supposed it was Luck telling him he'd had an unexpected reprieve, but it'd be back soon, worse than ever.

Jimmy had to even the score somehow; one for one, or Luck was going to catch him on its own terms. He looked at Edgar, considering.

"You can, um, let go now," Edgar said, slightly red.

Jimmy did.

As the older man rushed off to his house, cats swinging along the way, Jimmy noted two things: One, Edgar lived in house 66_5_ (nice house), and two, whatever he did to balance things out would have to involve him, somehow. Jimmy could just feel the snickering threats of Luck leaning over his shoulder. Eww, Fate-breath.

So… good god, what does a fairy want?

Jimmy harbored, as all straight men do, the inescapable fear that his body was somehow inexplicably desirable to all the gay men on earth, and therefore had to be protected. A reasonable person would have considered that perhaps being psychotic, snide, and _straight_ might make him less desirable than, oh, say a happy, attractive, _gay_ man.

Jimmy, however, has never been accused of being reasonable.

So… Edgar, being very obviously a fruit cup and therefore at heart a sex-fiend who preys on innocent straight men (even though he looked more like a half-Mexican angel-thing than a dangerous pervert)… well, he could possibly be paid back with…

Nngg.

Well, if it was the only way.

In his room, Jimmy contemplated his fate as a martyr.

You've got to balance things out, he thought to himself, kicking off knee-high boots. Gotta be even numbers on both sides. Gotta pay back. That's the way the universe works.

Erk. So how was he going to do this thing?

In his closet, there were exactly four outfits, and exactly two sets of shoes. They were all black. He read somewhere that in the Middle Ages, when they had to send a sacrificial virgin off to feed the dragon so he wouldn't ruin everything, they dressed her up in, like, non-offensive clothes. A white dress, or something. To show she was going quietly.

Well, he was throwing himself at the mercy of a homo… so maybe pink? But he didn't own any pink. Jimmy looked around desperately. You had to do these things the right way!

In the end, he came to grips with the fact that he owned no pink, and broke into the neighbor's house. They had a daughter who was about his age, and she ought to own something pink. Right?

Kinda.

She actually owned only one pink _anything_—and Jimmy knew, because he'd gone through the whole fucking room—and that was a set of pseudo-sporty pajamas. They still smelled like chick. Weird.

Well, it was better than nothing, right? At least it didn't have princesses on it, or sparkles or something (Jimmy had very little in the way of actual knowledge when it came to girls). Once safely back in his room, Jimmy wiggled into the feminine monstrosity with a single-minded fervor. The shirt had a _star_ on the front, which was white, but only the sleeves were pink. Small mercies.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror, and… wow, he looked _incredibly_ gay. Perfect! His ass looked nice too, which, he supposed, was probably a good thing. He kind of shut off the train of thought after that, though. Scary places down the road.

Jimmy ducked out the window, avoiding the kitchen because you knew _what_ was going to happen when you went through there, and dashed through the woods and a few back yards. It wasn't like he had any friends to see him, but still, being caught in the middle of the road wearing girl's pajamas which he'd stolen out of a girl's room while rushing off to appease karma by sacrificing himself to a flaming homo…

Not a situation he particularly favored.

A dash through one more backyard, and he was standing on Edgar Vargas's property, staring at his back door—which was a classy white, and reminded Jimmy of something off a fifties sitcom.

Unconcerned with the ramifications of 'trespassing' or 'stalking', Jimmy waltzed up to the door, adjusted the pink pants, and knocked very loudly.

He wondered if it would be particularly painful. Edgar seemed nice enough, maybe he'd go easy on Jimmy if he, like, begged or something. That was an uncomfortable image.

A very confused Edgar swung open the door, first eyeing the pink pajamas and then Jimmy himself, standing on the back porch of the Vargas house. He gave Jimmy a helpless, bewildered look.

"I'm sacrificing my virginity to you," the younger boy explained, with an air of obviousness. "Since you saved me this morning and stuff. Can we make this as not-painful as possible?"

Edgar glanced left, then right, then craned his neck to peer behind Jimmy. He discreetly pinched his arm. "What are you talking about?" he asked, even more puzzled than before, if that was possible.

"You know," Jimmy said, "payback. You save me, I screw you, then everybody goes about their business like normal. Gotta make things even."

"You're crazy," Edgar mumbled, with a kind of awe. "Jimmy, I don't expect you to… er… sleep with me, just because I picked up a couple of _cats_ that were bothering you."

Obviously, Jimmy thought, you haven't taken the time to look at those cats lately. But what he said was, "Well, aren't you gay?"

"I—"

"So shouldn't you be jumping at the chance to fuck me?"

Edgar looked a bit faint. "That's not—I mean—on principal, that doesn't seem like a very fair trade to me."

"Really?" Jimmy thought about it. "Do you want my liver too, or something? Because I kind of need it."

"No!" Edgar insisted, looking startled. He grabbed Jimmy by the arm and dragged him into the house.

Jimmy figured they were finally getting somewhere.

"I don't want to sleep with you," the older boy said, floundering, "I mean, not that you aren't attractive, in a psychotic sort of way, not that I'm hitting on you, or anything, but—"

Jimmy interrupted him, feeling a bit put out. "Well then, how am I going to pay you back? I got all dressed up in sacrificial clothing and everything, and I've gotta do this now before karma starts wracking up interest. _Interest_, Edgar."

His host rubbed the bridge of his rather large nose, warding off a headache. What was so confusing about this? He looked like someone had tossed him into another dimension and he'd only just realized it when the silverware started chasing him.

"You can," Edgar said slowly, opening his eyes, "you can give me a kiss."

Jimmy looked at him. He looked at Jimmy.

A kiss, huh?

He could work with that.

_END._


End file.
